


The Lady In Red

by MirandasMadeOfStone



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Heartbreak, Moving On, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandasMadeOfStone/pseuds/MirandasMadeOfStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not the happiest of fics but I make no apologies. This was inspired by that terrible scene at the ball. That trite and rushed chat.</p><p>This is quite post apocalytic but thin.</p><p>Right now this is the best I could do. There is a much deeper more broken fic burning within me right now, the one that really takes into account Finn looking relieved and Rae not wanting Finn back. But it’s dark and needs the hands of an angel to write and I don’t have those right now. But it will come. For now, this is the lite version</p><p>And I’m warning you now. I don’t like it. It feels hollow and empty and an unsatisfactory piece of writing. But rather than delete it and start afresh, I’m giving you this for now, at least.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Lady In Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the happiest of fics but I make no apologies. This was inspired by that terrible scene at the ball. That trite and rushed chat.
> 
> This is quite post apocalytic but thin.
> 
> Right now this is the best I could do. There is a much deeper more broken fic burning within me right now, the one that really takes into account Finn looking relieved and Rae not wanting Finn back. But it’s dark and needs the hands of an angel to write and I don’t have those right now. But it will come. For now, this is the lite version
> 
> And I’m warning you now. I don’t like it. It feels hollow and empty and an unsatisfactory piece of writing. But rather than delete it and start afresh, I’m giving you this for now, at least.

Finn stared at the dress hanging on the back of the wardrobe door. It was of such a hue that he couldn’t help but recall an occasion some years earlier when he’d been the one proudly dancing with the lady in red.

Barefoot, he wanders down the stairs and through to the kitchen. Quiet moments like these have become something of a precious rarity and he’s never quite sure how to handle them anymore. He used to dread being alone with his thoughts and would do anything to avoid being stuck in the vicious circle of memories, decreasing self esteem and loneliness that had filled his life for so long.

He fills up the kettle with a yawn and pulls a mug from the rack. A small smile plays on his lips when his first attempt at locating the teabags in the cupboard fails, before he remembers the vintage caddies that were proudly installed on the counter top last week to make more space in that cupboard. Hornsea’s green and brown Heirloom pattern really wasn’t his style but she had picked them up at a car boot sale and loved them. She had raised her eyebrows almost in challenge, only too aware of his taste, but he’d laughed and kissed her on the cheek and said that they would grow on him.

Sitting down at the kitchen table with his cup of tea, he looks out into the garden and see the lights of the houses beyond shining like beacons into the night. College had actually looked welcoming that evening, although he had been only too aware of the risk that he was taking; that he may not  have been welcome. The look on his friends’ faces had confirmed his fears but he had had to be brave. He had wanted to be there for her, just that one more time like he had promised.

She’d looked beautiful that evening, probably even more so as he knew he would never be with her again. Trepidation and self-denigration had weighed him down and he found it hard to muster the strength not to drag everyone down with him. that was the last thing he wanted. It was all about her and giving her the send off from college she deserved. But then, it had always been about her. He’d spent so much of the previous two years thinking about her, dreaming of her and trying to make her happy.

With a start, almost as if he still cannot believe his own behaviour, he stands up and makes for the back door. He’d given up smoking shortly into their relationship but started again that night after the ball, with a packet bought from an all night garage on the long walk home. As he lights up, he replays that dreadful scene in his mind again. He had nightmares about Katie for weeks after, berating himself for how he’d not seen it coming.

It had only been a kiss. Not a lengthy kiss, not a meaningful kiss, not a special kiss. Just a kiss. An awkward, painful and unsettling couple of minutes of his life. An angular body pushing itself hard against his, hands seeking him out, limbs trying to coil around him. He ended it very abruptly and leapt off his bed; suffused with so many emotions that his body could not bear to be still. Confusion about how she’d been talking about her friend one minute and her lips were on his the next, self loathing for allowing her lips to touch his even for the merest second, and an indescribable and inherent pain that he carried with him for months afterwards. The kiss  had been the antithesis of the comfort he had needed.

He takes a deep drag on the cigarette and blows the smoke into the cold air, a wry smile on his face. He’d spent months replaying those moments and wishing with everything in him that he could undo it, that they could be somehow erased and time rewound. But eventually, he had realised that it was over long before then. It was already over when she’d walked away from him in that pub car park, the very last time he’d told her he loved her. She’d thrown it back in his face once more, stating that she didn’t deserve it. She’d  walked away, like she’d done so many times before and  he’d known then she was no longer his.

He ponders whether she was ever really his, how much he ever really knew knew her and how much was her illness. It’s all so easy to castigate his failings as a boyfriend with the benefit of hindsight but at the time he just hadn’t been able to see them. She constantly reassured him that she liked the fact he wasn’t always asking her how she was and that he treated her “normally.” So when he had noticed that things weren’t quite as they should be, when she’d seemed tense or upset or inconsistent, he’d tried to soothe her and find a way to be there for her but he hadn’t fought her over it. Maybe he should have done. Maybe he should have fought harder.

Seeing her hand on his flat door on that fateful day had made him sick to the stomach. He’d wanted to curl up and for the earth to swallow him. Katie had taken so long to leave that he’d lost the courage to chase after Rae. He’d shut the flat door and he’d curled up on the sofa and cried. Knowing he’d failed her so badly was far worse than the knowledge of that kiss. The gnawing feeling that had been growing ever since the whole topic of University had come up became unsuppressable and all encompassing. Alcohol had seen him into a fitful and nightmarish sleep for several nights.

He snorts hollowly at his own foolishness at going to the ball and the secret hope he’d nursed. She’d let him down gently of course, making some soothing remark that just because they weren’t together didn’t mean they’d never be together. But even in his weakened state, he’d understood what she really meant. She had always been kind hearted and caring and he muses she’d probably always had a soft spot for him. He sniffs back a tear, recalling when his nan had died and how the gentle support she had provided had seen him through days so dark he wasn’t sure whether he would ever emerge whole again.

But even his battered heart had swollen with pride when she had told him that he would have to fix her own problems in the future, that she would never be relying on him again. It’s what had attracted him to her like a moth to a flame in the first place- her incredible and undimmable strength of character.

Giving her the evening she deserved had been one of the hardest things he thinks he’s ever done. He’d played the role she wanted him to and his presence had been tolerated by the others. By the time they had hit the pub, she’d drifted away and the barriers had started to come down. He’d sat slightly away from the others and had slipped out into the night alone.

He’s wide awake now and knows trying to get back to sleep will be a futile exercise. So he pads back inside and helps himself to a small whiskey with water. His dad’s favourite tipple. Much as he’d like to be sharing a double or treble with Chop on his last night of “freedom,” he’d rather be here in his home.

He takes a sip of the fluid and feels it leave a fiery trail into his stomach. Walking home alone that night had been when burning in his stomach begun. He’d actually felt so unwell that he’d gone back to his father’s. He’d shouted and cried in his father’s arms, denouncing himself as a prick, as a stupid boy who couldn’t say no, who was weak willed and pathetic. By the time the milky dawn had finally broken his father had calmed him sufficiently enough to talk properly.

As the realisation of how lonely he had been, how empty and powerless he had felt, spilt out in a torrent from his lips, the bile had started to rise in his stomach. He’d been violently sick, which had only served to bring the failed exclusive sleepover to mind. The strength had left his body and his father had helped him upstairs to his old room. He had been grateful that his father had redecorated, but nonetheless he’d not been able to dispel the ghosts of the time they had spent there: playing records, tracing letters on her skin, laughing and kissing.

He’d only slept for a couple of hours before hunting out the vodka intending to drink until the unbearable hurt was no more. Yet one full tumbler in, he had given up, sought out the childhood bear that his nan had given him and humbly gone to bed.

He smells the whiskey before taking another sip, finding it’s familiar peaty depths comforting. He had kept his head down for the next few weeks, working hard and returning to his flat. Despite his distaste for the home he’d been so excited about, he’d avoided following his urge to spend as little time as possible there. For he’d had nobody to spend that time with, nobody that mattered. He’d hoped that they might have seen a little of each other as friends in the short weeks before she finally left, but it had never happened.

At the time, he’d thought he was staying away from the gang for her sake. But in retrospect, he recognises that his motives were, for the most part, selfish. He’d not seen much of his other mates either. But one day Archie had appeared, concerned that nobody had seen him for three weeks. He’d kept up the pretence for all of about 15 minutes before he had dissolved into abject misery. Archie hadn’t spared the home truths and they’d been a bitter pill to swallow, but no less than he had deserved. And slowly and tacitly Archie had drawn him out of his Smiths induced oblivion.

Talking about her not being perfect, about her shutting him out, had caused the bile to rise once more, despite the constant indigestion medication he’d been taking since the ball. And finally, the walls he had built within crumbled; his desolation so deep at the recognition he had never deserved her. Although his oldest friend had called him out for his moment of madness, his insight was far deeper than he had expected. He’d held him as he’d sobbed and they’d talked about their fears and dreams and those things they had never been able to express before, in the absence of fear of judgement.

Something Archie had said about his inability to communicate his own needs as well as those of others had made it through his tenebrous haze. It had been the first time in years he’d spoken of his mother’s sudden departure. That was the moment when the first drops of the tightly coiled grief he’d held for all those years had begun to seep out.

Of course, Chop had been a very different proposition. They’d had a full blown shouting row over it all in public. Chop had called him every name under the sun but once the anger dissipated, his genuine concern had started to show through. A few pints on quiet evenings in an unknown pub had put most of their differences behind them. And even Chop had admitted that, bar his appalling moment of weakness, he’d probably done his best, and,  that despite being a knobhead, he wasn’t an awful person through and through.

He looks down to find he’s only a third of the way down the very pale amber liquid. And a little to his disgust, he decides he needs a second cigarette. He shivers as his feet meet the stone of the patio once more.

Izzy had been the first to go to University, but Peterborough was relatively local and waving her off had been a low key affair. He’d kept his distance not wishing his presence to distress or unnerve Rae. He’d not gone to the small gathering at the Swan when the remaining friends had said their goodbyes to Rae. He can’t deny that he’d been tempted to go to the station to give some last words of encouragement. But he wouldn’t have been welcome. Family only.

Archie leaving had really taken it out of him and he’d had to go to the doctor, who’d prescribed stronger antacids. There had been no more tears, no more waking with a hoarse voice in the middle of the night. Just endless emptiness. But he’d carried on walking through it at his own pace. He’d gone back to playing football but with a different club. He’d worked a bit harder and searched hard for a new place on the other side of town.

Socialising had been hard. He could always go drinking with his footie mates or the guys from work, but nothing had the same feel as the gang. Chop spent most of his free weekends travelling to see Izzy. Chloe, well Chloe had been cold for a while, distrusting of him like a fallen hero. But one late November night, they’d literally bumped into each other on the street. She had been wan and pale and he’d tentatively suggested a drink for old time’s sake. At first she’d been hesitant but soon she’d been happy enough.

She had given him a lengthy piece of her mind and spouted endlessly about how well Rae was doing and how wonderful Bristol was. But, bit by bit, the vitriol dissipated and she finally confessed she was lonely and struggling with her business course. It hadn’t been all that she had envisioned. He had remained firmly in his seat, leaning away from her, and she’d finally laughed and chided him for his response. She’d confessed her crush on him which had only rendered him even more apologetic for his behaviour and his uselessness with women.

It turned out she didn’t hate him as much as he had thought. And although she disliked him intensely him for his mistake, she understood how much the relationship had affected him. His own words and admissions of deep seated insecurities had sent him fishing in his bag for his medicine. That had finally broken the ice and an unlikely alliance had begun to form. When he admitted he’d not asked after Rae or written to her because he was afraid of stepping on toes or it being too soon, Chloe had confessed they’d not seen each other since the September and all the updates she’d had, comprised a few late night phone calls.

He sent Rae a birthday card with some pretend jolly note asking her if she’d found any good tunes lately and mentioning a gig she would have liked. He enclosed his new address even though he had known she’d never write. His many apologetic letters to her ended up as screwed up balls in the bin because all along they were never really going to be enclosed.

He shuffles his feet and walks around. But it’s the next memory that causes a little more warmth to flow through his veins. It had been nigh on that first Christmas, on a bitterly cold afternoon, that the smallest seed of his self regard as a worthwhile human being had been planted. He had finished a shift at the garage and was walking home, coat pulled high against a biting wind. Snow was falling heavily and he had his eyes half closed. Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure bent over and struggling on the pavement.

As he had walked closer, it had become apparent that a wheel had fallen off the heavily laden pram that the lady in the huge coat with a scraggly blonde plait had been pushing. He had been ever so tired from the extra shift he’d worked and was looking forward to a meal in the pub with the footie lads. Like the other passers by trudging through that winter’s night, he’d nearly just crossed the road without a second thought.

But for some inexplicable reason, he had stopped. She’d been so adamant that it was under control that she had almost been rude and he’d backed away his hands held aloft in the air. He’d made it about ten paces down the street when he’d heard a baby’s cry. And however embittered he felt with the world, however miffed he was with himself, he had had to turn back and try again.

She had only been marginally less testy this time but somehow he’d managed to get the words out of his mouth that he was mechanic and generally not too useless with these things even if he’d never been near a pram. And she’d laughed softly. In the end, he too had conceded, unable to mock up anything with the tie-wraps or tape carried in his pocket that could help the wheel stay on long enough to be useful. They’d both laughed as he’d admitted defeat and ended up pushing the three wheeled pram across the town, while she carried her bags. Being the 23rd of December, he’d felt a little bad leaving the pram in the stairwell of the block of flats so he’d helped her up the stairs with it.

She’d handed him the baby as she unpacked the pram and the soothing feeling of that small beating heart against his own remains with him to this day. Her flat had been cold and empty and she’d lit the fire before taking the baby back from him. He’d declined the offer of tea with a smile and headed off to pub, pleased with his good samaritan gesture. It had stayed with him through a rather dismal and depressing Christmas. He’d intended to banish himself to his own flat for the duration of Rae’s two day visit.

But then she’d come round with Chloe to pass him a Christmas card. It had been a flimsy paper one from a charity box set. Even now he can recall her inimitable writing. Hi Finn…Hope you have a good one…Rae. He’d purposely not let them in, but had followed them out for what had been, entirely as expected, an uncomfortable gang reunion. He’d been grateful they’d not had a minute alone as otherwise he might have undone all the work he’d put in trying to pull himself together and reconcile himself to a future without her. She’d gently asked how he was doing and he’d have had to have been blind to miss the concern etched all over her face.

He’d never been able to lie to her so he’d had to stick to the easy stuff; moving was to be closer to work, he was saving some cash, his dad was well, he was playing regular club footie, he’d been to several good gigs. Her eyes had lit up as she’d talked of her course and her new life in Bristol. The room had seemed that bit brighter, the world that bit less oppressive. But as they’d chinked glasses he’d been searching in his bag again. He’d had to kick Chop hard under the table to prevent the explanation that Rae’s eyes had sought but her lips had not articulated.

He’d made excuses about a dicky tummy and left shortly thereafter. The walk home had him nearly doubled over and doubting he’d had taken enough pills until he’d finally conceded that this time, it was no physical sickness that was ailing him. Christmas had been a quiet affair with his dad but Archie had made an effort on Boxing Day and Finn had supported him through what could have been a difficult lunch with his new boyfriend visiting.

New Year had failed to bring better weather and the cold bleakness had begun to worm its way into his soul. But on the 4th of January, his boss had told him some woman had just left a thank you card at the front desk - something about getting her out of a fix. He’d opened it and learnt her name was Jenny. Something about the thought of them in that gloomy flat had uncharacteristically sent him running down the street after her. He’d stuttered through a couple of half sentences before mumbling something unintelligible. She’d made some smart comment about him not having the gift of the gab. But her hand had found his arm by way of apology. The baby had started wailing at this point leaving Finn distinctly uncertain. But she’d scooped him out of his pram and started singing Sally Cinnamon softly.

To this day, he has no idea why he joined in. But it was oddness of the whole situation, mixed with his overwhelming sadness that had perversely made him smile. He’d never intended for them to become friends but slowly and clumsily he’d found someone to share the odd CD with. When her oven had broken, he’d visited her flat once more and finally discovered she was single parent. And so they shared the occasional meal offered as thanks for his dodgy handiwork. More than once he found himself happily cuddling baby Jacob.

And one night she’d accompanied him to a gig. It wasn’t exactly her thing but she loved to dance with her hands in the air, eyes shut, wavy hair trailing down her back. They had found each other’s company a comfort and a protection against the unwanted advances of others.

His feet are beginning to numb, so he returns indoors and props them up on a chair whilst he finishes his drink, recalling how he’d finally written to Rae in the early Spring.  It had been easier as she had no longer been his first thought in the morning anymore. Thoughts of her had become less frequent, less invasive and less consuming.

It was on a warm March day that Chloe had walked into the coffee shop to find him, bouncing Jacob on his knee and drinking tea with Jenny. Chloe had eyed them suspiciously but Jenny had blunty introduced herself as a friend. Someone who Finn had helped out once or twice. The conversation had been slow to start but had soon become natural, relaxed and even happy.

Three weeks later and he’d found himself in a pub with Chloe, who hadn’t been able to meet his gaze. She’d simply nodded when he’d asked if Rae had found someone else and then made some quiet noises that it probably was nothing. He’d asked Chloe if she  herself was dating and she’d nodded in the affirmative, which is when she had ever so softly placed a hand on his. Her suggestion that perhaps he should too, had been tentative yet a little prickly.

But she’d looked genuinely shocked when he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as kissed anyone since Katie. Naturally she’d restated what an idiotic thing he’d done but it was less abrasive and more tender this time. What was even more shocking was that she had liked Jenny and was genuinely pleased to see him smiling again. But he’d been adamant that he simply couldn’t. Not only was he not ready, he was never going to let someone down so badly again. Besides he and Jenny were just friends.

The guilt had rushed back and sent him reeling. Head in his hands, he’d begun to replay events as if trying to make sense of them once more. When he’d popped his third antacid, Chloe had said he needed something in his life. He couldn’t go on unfulfilled forever. It had taken a couple more weeks of thinking and calls to Archie and his father before he’d settled on a year’s sound tech course in London, which could be paid for by bar work or mechanicing at weekends.

He’d seen Rae that Easter with the rest of the gang at one of Chop’s parties. She had lost weight, grown her hair longer and looked as pretty as ever. He’d tried to avoid her, not wishing to provoke an awkward conversation. But she’d sought him out and they had spent a precious fifteen minutes discussing the latest live Oasis album before he’d had to pinch himself and remind himself of how much he’d failed her.  To this day, he thinks he managed to slink off unnoticed.

Summer had brought another meeting; a small gathering at Rutlands. There had been something different about her this time but he’d not been able to pinpoint it. She’d worn red again. Red plaid. They’d lain side by side on the grass and he’d finally told her about his course. Her fingers had sought his out and squeezed them softly. Ever so briefly their eyes had met. There was something there, something he couldn’t fathom. He’d had to turn his head away.

A week later, Archie had told him, Rae was newly single and had been asking after him. But he’d known it was a phase that would soon pass. He wouldn’t be her step backwards. When she’d denied him a final kiss, he’d been secretly relieved as he’d not deserved it. This time, had she asked, he’d thought he perhaps could have deserved it but he still wasn’t in the right place.

He shifts in the chair, glances at his watch and sighs. His mind is alive right now and he has a whole host stuff that won’t stop pouring through in its technicolour and surround-sound glory. He pours a second small whiskey mixed with a generous amount of water and wanders through to the living room. He lies back on the sofa an arm folded behind his head, then shakes his head at his own machinations and sentimentality.

He’d finally broken his post Rae duck in London. It hadn’t been anything really: neither gratifying nor satisfying - just a pair of arms and some kisses. But it was done and unceremoniously at that. The offers flooded in and although it had initially troubled him, he had caved eventually and embarked on a series of one night stands. He’d let these women use him for all they saw him as - a good body and a pretty face. Their bodies had been too cold, too warm, too angular, too petite or too curvy. The experiences had left him uncomfortably numb. He’d never managed more than a heated kiss before becoming passive and just participating for hollow physical gratification.

He’d kept in touch with Jenny and had been happy to find that she was dating again. He had slept easier knowing someone was looking after her. He had just hoped that whoever it was would look after Jacob and hold him the way he loved to be held. He had decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to call; he didn’t want to cause anymore unrest or be a hinderance. Nonetheless, she had turned up two weeks later on his doorstep, with a basket of food, a cd and two films, having left Jacob with her sister.

That’s when he’d finally spoken of Rae. What he thought they had had and most importantly what he had done; how he’d let her down and how he had never deserved her. He had ranted away until he was nothing but a shell. And slowly and calmly she’d held him and explained that the shitty things people have done in their past do not have to define them. That people have the power to change, improve and become the people they want to be. And she had asserted that he deserved to be loved and cared for. It was not wrong to crave comfort and affection.

This had caused him to collapse into a wreck. The fragile pieces he had been so carefully holding together shattered leaving him bereft and crying like a child for his mother and wishing he’d spent more time with his nan. Jenny had rocked him and kissed him on the forehead, telling him it was ok, it would pass and he would get through this.. She’d then gone on to explain the sorry situation with Jacob’s father at length and the pair had spent the rest of the evening in simple hug. But before she’d left she’d made him promise he would go and talk to someone about his past.

He’d found excuses for the first few weeks- working late, meeting up at the theatre with Archie and his boyfriend, visiting his father, studying. But helping out with the local youth football team had somehow spurred him into action. The kids’ problems seemed to spill out onto the pitch and could be problematic and affect their game. And he wondered if he had been like that as a child, a teengaer or even an adult.

The first therapy session had been some kind of torture but he’d stuck it out thinking how proud his father and Jenny would be. With time it had become increasingly easier to open up and face those things he had never dared contemplate. When he’d gone to visit Archie, he’d shocked his best mate  by wanting to talk about his mother. Then he’d wistfully spoken about his nan, who had so valiantly fought for him and surrounded him with affection for all those years. Still, he had kept needing to revisit what had happened around his nan’s death and how Rae had comforted him. But as the weekend wore on he found himself talking more about Jenny and Jacob.

That second Christmas he’d seen Rae once more as she’d been visiting her family, now home from Tunisia. They’d actually laughed and joked once more in The Swan and argued for an hour about Portishead. It had only been when he’d returned to London that he realised it hadn’t actually hurt even though she had some new drama student boyfriend. He’d simply been concerned that she was being treated as she should be. He hadn’t once reached for his emergency indigestion tablets.

As the New Year progressed he had found himself taking less and less medication and was talking more and more. His calls to Jenny had become more frequent and her visits lengthier. He’d comforted her when she’d broken up with her new boyfriend. But despite Chloe’s raised eyebrows, he’d been adamant that they would always be just friends.

When his father had been diagnosed with cancer late that Summer, the first person he had called was Jenny. His fear of loss had grown with each mile that passed on the train back to Stamford and he’d near on collapsed into her arms on the platform. She’d held his hand whilst they waited for his father to come round from his operation. And he’d so nearly kissed her but something held him back.

Archie had visited the hospital to find them holding hands in the corridor, his head resting on her shoulder. He’d raised an eyebrow but said nothing and gone in by himself to visit the father of his childhood friend who’d played such an important role in his life. But that evening, when the two of them had been alone in the pub, he’d let rip and said his new confidence and honesty meant nothing if he was going to revert to type when it came to relationships.

It had taken another month. He’d actually asked if he could kiss her before he’d finally done so at a gig when she was dancing in his arms. And when it had happened, it had been sweetness, longing and respect all mingled together.

Later that night, he’d admitted how he’d found her attractive from the start but he had been in such darkness that he hadn’t fully recognised it. He’d been initially nervous when she’d said the feeling was mutual but she hadn’t acted on it because of Jacob and because he was so disarmingly handsome.

But the feeling had soon settled when she came to tell him just how much she adored his boyish enthusiasm, his slightly flat singing, the way he loved to fix things, his dodgy taste in home decor and the way he strived to be the person he wanted to be. But what really choked him was her confession that it was his patience and perseverance with her that really first drew her to him. Words of mutual admiration fell from his lips; her cheerfulness, her feistiness and refusal to be defeated and her boundless caring and friendship. He’d confessed that he’d always thought that she was beautiful but had never dared voice it. He’d held back on the final piece of his speech though.

A cry from upstairs distracts him from his reflection. But it’s not Jacob. It’s too early for him. With a smile on his face he wanders upstairs and opens the bedroom door. He changes the infant’s nappy before cradling his son to his chest and sitting in the rocking chair. He rubs the small curled back and slowly rocks them to and fro.

His intentions of dating Jenny in the old-fashioned sense hadn’t lasted that long. He had managed to introduce her to Chop and Izzy after he’d completed his exams and moved back to Stamford a month after his father’s operation. And they had seemed openly happy for him. One late Autumn evening, the words had left his lips spontaneously in her flat when she’d been tidying up the toys so they could sit comfortably.

She’d ended up on his lap and he’d laughed and kissed her freely. She may not have said anything, but he’d unquestioningly known. Timmy had been conceived three months later. He holds his son a little tighter and breathes in the intoxicating scent of baby. He may not have received the love he longed for and needed from his mother, but it had not prevented him from loving both his sons fearlessly. When Jenny had wanted to christen Timmy, like Jacob had been, they’d asked Chloe to be his godmother.

One afternoon when Jacob was at nursery, he’d taken Timmy for a walk in his pram to give Jenny a rest. For a reason he’d never be able to explain, his feet had taken him the back way and he passed the beer garden of The Swan. He’d been tired so it had taken some time for the voice to break through his tunnel. He’d turned to see a familiar head of raven hair and a soft smile.

He replays the conversation once more through his mind.

“Finn…..Finn.”

He had frowned then smiled. “God Rae….how are you?”

“Good. Really good, and you?”

“Yeah great.” He had rolled the pram backwards and forwards.

“I heard you’d become a dad.” She had grinned.

When Timmy had started to cry he’d held him close to his chest but Rae, being Rae, had wanted a cuddle with his son. She had happily his baby for a while glancing first at Timmy, then at Finn, back at Timmy then back at Finn. There had been something in her eyes at that moment. A look he had no longer been able to discern or interpret. Her voice had been very quiet when she’d finally spoken.

“You know Finn. I really did love you. I wasn’t just saying it. It wasn’t just about your looks, you know.”

He had looked up startled at first, but eventually his face had softened. “I loved you too Rae. And I’m sorry that things didn’t work out. I’m still so sorry I let you down. You deserved more than what I could give you.”

She had shaken her head gently. “No. It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just that I put you on a pedestal. I shut you out. And I’m sorry I did that.”

“Yeah but that’s no excuse for me acting like a dickhead.”

“True. But there it is. And I want you to know I don’t regret it. Not a single minute of us.”

He had frowned.

“You helped me in many more ways than I realised at first. It’s taken me time to understand what was going on in my head though. But I know you tried. I know you were there for me.”

He had bitten his lip before allowing his words out. “I don’t regret it either. And I’m thankful I met you. I know it sounds cheesy but I’m a better person for it.”

Rae had smiled ever so softly and then handed back his son. “I err..I’m engaged.”

“Congratulations.” He had kissed her on the cheek, beaming and proud of her..

When he son had become fretful they’d said their goodbyes. He had waited and waited for the feelings to bubble back up, for some dim sense of melancholic nostalgia. But there had been nothing. He’d told Jenny that evening and she’d simply smiled, unconcerned about it.

And he’d had to ask her about them as he’d never quite got over his need for reassurance. With a shrug she’d explained that she’d known that he’d loved her for some time before he confessed it. That he may not be the best verbal communicator but his actions spoke volumes. She then admitted that she’d been in love with him for some time before they’d actually become a couple. She’d chosen not to act on her feelings for fear of jeopardising the friendship that had become so important to her.

He’d hadn’t asked exactly how she’d known. Because it didn’t matter. What mattered was them and their future. The popcorn fight they’d had that evening had been the stuff of legend and he’d had to brush the crushed remnants out of her hair after a particularly passionate bout of lovemaking on the sofa.

Rae hadn’t entered his mind since. Seven months on and they were due at Chop and Izzy’s wedding that afternoon. He can’t wait to see Jenny’s white blonde hair against her dark red dress. He knows his hands will be full with the boys but it will be good to see his friends again once more. Their meetings have become fewer and further between. And he wondered how long it would be before the months became years.

And he’s looking forward to meeting Rae’s fiance, knowing that the medication will remain locked in the medicine cabinet where it has remained untouched for over a year.

He smiles contentedly, knowing that through some kind of miracle he had created the stability he had always craved but never recognised the need for until he’d split from Rae. His father was in remission. He had a girlfriend he loved and would one day become his wife as well as his best friend. They had two beautiful healthy sons and a home. He worked at a television station, played football and coached the junior side at weekends. But most remarkable of all, he had found the peace he had sought for so long after his mother had left.

Timmy is fast asleep on his chest, and he knows there’s still time for him to get some sleep. But he choses to stay up and enjoy the warmth of his son’s tiny body against his.


End file.
